


Burdened Minds (Do I Wanna Know?)

by orphan_account



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M, and smoochin, hahaha just two buddies drinkin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1445134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I don’t know if you feel the same as I do</i>
  <br/><i>But we could be together if you wanted to</i>
</p>
<p>  <i>(Do I wanna know?)</i><br/><i>If this feeling flows both ways?</i></p>
<p>  <i>(Sad to see you go)</i><br/><i>Was sorta hoping that you’d stay</i></p>
<p>  <i>(Baby we both know)</i><br/><i>That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Burdened Minds (Do I Wanna Know?)

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to "Do I Wanna Know?" when I was writing, thus it was somewhat influenced. At least in my mind it was. I originally posted this on my tumblr, but wanted to put it here. I took a small bit out of the end but it wasn't much anyway.

Mizuki, having had a long, uneventful day, was about to close up when he had an uncommon visitor. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the man, of course, but he was typically the last person Mizuki would see in his bar except for the man’s rough nights. Tonight, he assumed, was one of those nights. But tonight, he didn’t know, would be bigger. With weary eyes Koujaku asked for the usual, a semi-sweet fruity drink, strong enough to send any weaker individual into a giggling fit after a drink, maybe a drink and a half. Exhibit A, Aoba Seragaki. “Benishigure getting restless again?”

"Yeah," Koujaku muttered. "Something like that."

"Mind if I join you? Work has been less than merciful today." The burgundy-haired man slid onto the stool beside him, and his companion poured him a glass. Their conversation moved along at a steady pace, comfortable silences here and there, A ragged breath from Koujaku was the only sound as both fell into hazy thought darkened by alcohol.

"Oi, Mizuki," the taller man spoke after a moment. "You ever think how different things might be if you could’ve escaped?"

Mizuki blinked, grimacing a second later. “What kind of question is that? Course I do.”

"I never thought I’d have to remember it, but…" Koujaku let out a low growl. "That bastard just loves to cross lines."

_To think such an asshole was my idol,_ Mizuki thought, disgusted. “How naive I was…”

Koujaku furrowed his brows. “Huh?”

"Talking to myself. Sorry."

The other man grunted. “I guess it might be dumb to ask, but yours…”

Mizuki shook his head, wise to his close friend’s unfinished sentence despite his drunken state. “It wasn’t him. Fortunately enough.”

"Y’know, I’d be willing to show you mine, if you want."

He smirked. “Oh? They growing on you or are you that drunk already?” The younger man couldn’t help but think his friend sounded more childish, as if his tattoos were some trophy he felt less than happy about winning. 

The darker haired man stared evenly at him. His eyes betrayed his only slightly hardened nerves, and he shrugged. “I’ve seen yours, you’ve shared more than I have. Just fair trade, right?”

Mizuki, with a certain bitterness, decided yes, it would be fair, to know more about his close friend’s troubled past he hadn’t actually heard much of. Sure, Aoba was a childhood friend of Koujaku’s, but if their whole group of close-knit, happy-go-lucky friends got to know about Mizuki’s fuck-up, didn’t he deserve to learn something as well? It felt almost selfish to him, but the feeling passed as it hit him: Koujaku’s tattoos. Where would they be but under the kimono? He was lucky they were the only ones there, but something in his mind seemed faulty, and he hoped it would just seem as if his face was hot and red from drinking.

"Yeah," Mizuki responded, almost shakily. "I suppose you’re right. If you want to show ‘em off, I’m not stopping you." He flashed a confident grin.

Koujaku laughed, and he suddenly sounded almost as frazzled as Mizuki felt. “Don’t sound so eager, you’ll send the wrong signals.”

They usually joked around like that, even more so while intoxicated. So Mizuki, relieved, shot back, “Sorry, am I giving you false confidence? Does that make it easier or harder to strip, tough guy?”

He scowled mockingly and untied his kimono’s obi in a way that might have seemed cool and collected had his fingers not been fumbling and uncoordinated. “Stop laughin’, punk,” he spoke, almost laughing himself.

"I’d help but I’m enjoying the show as is." Mizuki displayed a wide smile as Koujaku finally managed to get the kimono off, letting it fall off his shoulders and triumphantly flexing his muscles. The two couldn’t keep straight faces and doubled over, roaring with laughter.

"Hey, Koujaku," Mizuki gasped out while trying to control himself. He paused and straightened out his expression before continuing. "They aren’t bad, you know."

Koujaku looked away, a small grimace on his lips. “They turned me into a monster.”

"Nah, I’ve seen uglier." Koujaku good-naturedly punched him and he uttered his next words with more seriousness. "Ryuuhou’s dead, isn’t he? You can’t let them control you when they have no hold on you."

"You’re right," his exposed friend groaned. 

Mizuki frowned as he thought for a brief moment. “They’re normal now. They’re not the same as the tattoos he gave you, per se. Those tattoos are just memories. These ones…” He hesitantly held out a hand to touch the other man’s cheek, brushing aside the long bangs. “…are stunning, really.”

Koujaku would’ve retorted something about there was no room for some kind of tragic beauty shit, but the words were stuck like peanut butter on the roof of his mouth. 

"I’m jealous, to be honest… He might not have been such a great person, but his designs are far greater than mine could ever be." He let his hand fall with a soft, almost sad smile. His eyes snapped back to Koujaku when the other man’s fingers lightly brushed the bandages which had just become a part of him. His jaw fell slightly as they were carefully removed.

"These scars are proof yours are just memories too," Koujaku breathed. He thought back to when Mizuki was under the influence of whatever it was Morphine had fed him. He’d never seen eyes so wild, and lifeless. "And these scars show the tragic beauty of that."

Mizuki could see the hint of a blush on Koujaku’s cheeks, could hear it in his embarrassed murmur, and he chuckled. “I guess they are.”

"You guess… I want to hear you say it," Koujaku stated quietly, moving his lips to Mizuki’s neck. 

"K-Koujaku…?" Mizuki managed, surprised.

“‘They mean nothing.’ Say it.”

“‘They mean nothing…' Ah…!” He tried to hold back a yelp as Koujaku bit at his skin, but couldn’t quite pull it off.

"Louder," Koujaku demanded.

“‘They mean nothing.’” 

"What means nothing?" Koujaku purred, teeth sliding gently up his tan neck to his jaw, which had tensed slightly.

"My scars," Mizuki stammered, fingers twitching.

"And?" The older man’s voice was low and muffled as he teasingly kissed along Mizuki’s jawline.

Mizuki tried to think, failing miserably, but let an answer roll off his tongue in an almost slur. “Y-your tattoos.”

"Good." The dark-haired, red-eyed "monster" pressed a hungry kiss on Mizuki’s lips, his thumb running fleetingly across the other’s scars. Mizuki’s hands rose to Koujaku’s face, revealing the tattoo again. Koujaku nearly flinched this time, but continued with his light kisses and a faint smirk here and there. 

Mizuki let out a small noise of impatience, which was answered with a tug on his lips and his jacket being thrown aside, followed shortly by his shirt. “Koujaku,” he gasped. “This is—”

"A-ah," Koujaku stuttered. "If you’d rather stop…"

"It’s not that, it’s that we’re drunk… It wouldn’t mean much if we continued just out of drunkenness, would it?"

"No," Koujaku agreed with a frown. "Sorry, I got a little carried away, huh?"

Mizuki laughed nervously. “We both did… But…” Koujaku glanced up at him, cheeks burning as he straightened his kimono. “How do I say this… Hell… Let’s…try this again when we’re sober, yeah?” Mizuki’s face was a lovely shade of crimson too as he ruffled his hair and sucked in a breath.

"Yeah," Koujaku replied, grinning wide. "Night, Mizuki."

"Night."

That night, after Mizuki finished locking up, he lit a cigarette like Koujaku was no doubt doing at his own home. _Do even broken minds think alike?_ Mizuki wondered. _No, not broken…just burdened._


End file.
